Servant in the Storm
by 12VelvetWhispers
Summary: "He might be called the shadow king…but his true existence was merely a servant in the storm..." An AU spin on the bedroom scene in Episode 8: The Sun, the Sea, and the Host Club!


Title: Servant in the Storm

Rating – M

Characters: Kyoya/Haruhi

Setting: Kyoya's hotel room during the Episode 8: "The Sun, the Sea, and the Host Club"

All she could think of as he swung her against the down comforter and descended upon her, all lines and shadows, was that there was something so uncannily catlike about him – his swiftness, nimbleness, and perilous poise. There was almost an assured lethargy about his manner – a sort of incontestable self-confidence that wrapped itself about him like a sensual cloak, even though the taut outlines of muscle rippled captivatingly beneath the ivory layer of his unblemished skin – an unquestionable testament to the dormant control that lie below.

Without the reflective obstruction of his normal black-framed glasses, his eyes were bottomless pools of obsidian in the hazy illumination from the sluggishly waning moon through the ceiling-to-floor window wrapped in lavish Bleu de France gossamer drapes. The frustrating ruffles on her dress and the Egyptian cotton sheets below her felt like sandpaper against her slightly sunburned skin, though she paid them no heed as the living shadow drew so closely that the tips of his baby-fine hair, the color of black threads, tickled against her temples, sending quivers down her spinal column that had nothing to do with the temperature in that eerie chamber.

The room was so disconcertingly quiet – no swooning and fawning Tamaki, no taunting jibes or lewd remarks from the redheaded twins, or juvenile laughter from Honey. While dealing with the other Host Club members was undeniably tiresome, she had become so accustomed to the incessant chatter that the silence she was currently met with was both mollifying and unsettling. Haruhi supposed that this strange turn of events shouldn't have surprised her, considering the unpredictable nature of her newest companions, but now, as she lay stretched and prone beneath his remarkable body, she couldn't seem to catch her breath.

To her credit, she knew that her cheeks had probably taken on a rather humiliating shade of blazing rose. Sometimes she wondered if Kyoya was somehow clinically insane and managed to hide it beneath a methodically fashioned exterior of constant scrutiny. She pondered that maybe, there might be something of substance to the manner in which he always seemed to revel in other's hardships. She assumed that it probably had something to do with his family – maybe he was suffering chronically from the 'youngest child' syndrome. Maybe his parents hadn't hugged him enough as a kid, never told him just how special he really was. Or maybe he had been in some sort of abusive relationship in the past – the kind where he was smothered and stifled by an overbearing woman, hell-bent on dragging him straight down to the fiery depths of hell with every word she spoke and fuck she didn't actually give.

Then Haruhi remembered about whom she was thinking and decided that maybe it was _she_ who needed to get her head looked at – there was absolutely _no_ way that the menacing V.P. of the famous Ouran High-school Host Club could ever be anything less than the weird, sadistic bastard that he was so obviously displaying himself to be at the present moment.

Her thoughts were cut off abruptly as he leaned suddenly forward, so close that she could smell his freshly washed hair and slightly perfumed skin – the silky strands of his still-damp locks swaying lightly against her cheeks and throat at the motion. His lips fluttered about her ear as he whispered tauntingly, "Surely you aren't so naïve that you believe a person's sex doesn't matter…"

Her pulse quickened at her jugular as his breath washed over the delicate flesh above it, sending another chill down her spine as he continued.

"You've left yourself completely defenseless against me…"

She felt before she heard her breath catch, her body slackening slightly as the words stunned her. She took a moment to stare at him, dark eyes piercing through her own as his breath remained slow and even – almost as if he had planned this from the very beginning – planned for her to enter his rooms on accident and to make useless inquiries that would only lead her to this predicament – expected her to trust… _oh_.

It all made sense now.

She relaxed completely against the mattress, a sense of security settling in her bones as she mulled over the idea in her head.

 _So that's it…_

They stared at one another for a few moments, eyes latched onto the other's in a silent war, before she spoke.

"You won't do it, Kyoya."

She saw him visibly react to the bold statement, his shoulders tensing slightly, his head pulling back a few inches to get a better look at her, a sharp intake of breath slipping through his lips as his eyes widened marginally. In a way, it was almost boyish, like a small child who was unexpectedly confused by an otherwise simple statement. It was almost _endearing_ on the shadow king's features…

"I know…because it wouldn't do you any good…You wouldn't gain anything from it."

She felt relief flood her body as she watched his shoulders sag slightly, his lips closing, and gaze dropping to where she could no longer catch it. She was about to move when he raised one of his hands, rubbing his palm over his lips and chin in thought. His head tilted ever so slightly, and he sat back even further.

"Hmm…"

But then the hand that braced itself beside her head balled into a fist in the sheets, the other hand dropping to lay flatly against her chest, his four long fingers flattening against the hollow between her breasts as his thumb pressed lightly against the top right rung of her ribcage. Her eyebrows shot up at the careless move, brown eyes widening as he continued.

"Normally I would say you were right – you are a fascinating young woman, Haruhi."

There was a moment of almost painful silence as she stared at him, eyes wide as saucers and body slowly stiffening at the invasive touch. His eyes remained as calculating and intrusive as always, studying her reactions and forming thousands of ideas about her from that one look. The soft pad of his thumb stroked small circles along the upper curve of her top rib, testing its boundaries and pushing her to the limits of her control – a control that she must not lose. She wasn't falling for anymore of his tricks…she wasn't playing into anymore of his manipulative games.

That hand slid past her narrow hips, gripping the thick layer of rosy lace at the bottom of her dress, skimming over her pink, knobby knees with the motion. Panic flooded her being, eyes widening and jaw clenching as those indulgent knuckles dragged incessantly along the pale flesh of her outer thigh in their assent to her hip - where his palm came to cup the sharp jut of bone through her grey cotton panties.

"K-Kyoya…you don't _really_ want to do this…"

The statement apparently, only spurred him further onward, drawing her breaths more haggard and strained. So many different emotions rattled in her skull, each trying to overpower the next. Haruhi didn't know what to think anymore, didn't know what she should _do_ anymore. But the man above her knew exactly what he wanted. Especially when she felt Kyoya's hardness swell to life as he pressed his hips down against her right thigh.

Haruhi felt her emotions coalesce and bombard her all at once, giving her a lack of clarity she didn't need to know what was about to happen. She couldn't think with Kyoya's powerful body on top of her, his hot breath igniting her skin and the strong grip on her hips as he rolled against her.

"If you think this is something you can't handle, I suggest you leave. Now."

His voice was very low, but still utterly calm as he studied her silently – dead serious in his suggestion. Not for the first time that evening, Haruhi was at a loss for words. Kyoya was... he _wanted_ her? Vaguely, she registered the slide of his hand on her leg, before her eyes darkened as well.

"Don't be stupid. You can't possibly be attracted to me-"

Her voice broke with a shuddering gasp against his bare shoulder as a hot tongue flicked out to tap against her pulse point, an unexpectedly callused thumb teasing her panty line at the junction of her groin and thigh, treacherously near to very delicate parts.

He stared down at her annoyed, slightly breathless expression, as she felt the warmth of his body on hers and shivered at his proximity.

There was something so jaded and brazen in that evaluating stare that bore down upon her as if she were nothing more than his new-fangled venture – an enigma to decipher. It made a wounded resentment simmer deep in her gut, and she couldn't keep the indignant expression from her eyes.

"Kyoya, sometimes, I really hate you."

She was waiting; and she knew that _he knew_ she was waiting - waiting for his rebuttal, for it seemed that there was still a chance that there might be something else to this madness than a tasteless jest or wretched excuse for a moral to the story of her negligence and inattention. But the response was not the contradiction that she had been imagining, and it only seemed to further fuel her distress.

"Hate?" was the word he chose to repeat, the one he knew would vex the greatest.

"Yes," she indicated resentfully, "hate."

And he merely nodded, as if he had anticipated no different from her.

"God, Kyoya," she growled though the infuriating silence and mocking touches.

Again, he merely stared with those unfazed and practically antagonistic eyes, and she felt herself snap.

"Stop acting like this! Stop staring at me with those eyes! I can't stand it!"

Instead of responding to her anger with chiding comments or venomous contempt, his words were like rich velvet – smooth, flowing, and utterly poised.

"What do _you want_ me to do, Haruhi?"

His voice was without a single inflection, level, monotone, just as it always was - something else she absolutely hated.

"I want you to show that you feel something right now! I want you to show me that this isn't just some point you're trying to prove or game you're trying to play!"

She could feel a frenzy building, coiling within her core and threatening to detonate if she couldn't smear that vexatious look of docile consideration off of his flawless face. He was astonishingly frustrating, yet she couldn't deny that he was also intolerably beautiful – immaculate ivory skin, delicate bone structure, long lashes, and shadowy eyes that – despite his outward lethargy – bore into her like a laser.

He was the exact opposite of Tamaki…

Though this thought should have bothered her, alarmed her even, it failed in that respect. Because on some level, even though she held a certain amount of admiration for the President of the Ouran High-school Host club, and appreciated his outward projection of affection and adoration toward her…there was just something so undeniably enticing about the living and breathing contradiction perched above her with fingers slowly inching their way beneath the leg-band of her panties as if it were the only right and proper thing in the world to do at that moment.

Her breath was constricted within her ribcage as those digits grazed the boundaries of far too sensitive areas, her thighs clenching and back tensing instinctively at the intrusive touch. But even through the hesitancy, anxiety, and bitterness, she found herself unable to retreat from the invasion of her nether regions. Instead, she impulsively arched into the chilling touch, responding in a fashion with which she was not yet habituated.

It wasn't as if she was some petite virgin girl who was currently being sullied by a wicked man in the dimness of a strange house in the tumult of a violent tempest. Well, it might have been fairly near to that representation, but that was beside the point.

The burning breath on her throat gusted outward, sending a serrated shudder down her spine, and she began to wonder if maybe she just _might_ crave his touch a little more than would be considered proper in this circumstance. Maybe this wasn't such an atrocious state of affairs after all, and maybe she didn't have to feel desecrated or used – even if that probably _was_ the situation. Maybe it wouldn't be so wrong to just surrender and allow the circumstances to travel where they would on their own…

Shaking the trepidations from her mind and fortifying her resolution, she decided that she might just be up to whatever challenge the shadow king might have to offer that night – besides, how problematic could it be? This was Kyoya…he was a fairly straight-forward and restrained sort of man after all.

On that notion, Haruhi made a bold move, willingly raising her short arms to press soft palms against Kyoya's bare shoulders, tight muscles rippling beneath her fingertips, and growled in his ear with a voice that sounded just as overcome with everything as he was, "If you're as serious as you say you are, you'd better not regret this in the morning, Ootori."

She didn't miss the flash of mild astonishment that passed over the man's normally smug features, and she logged it away for those periods in the future that she might briefly be unable to summon up the detail that Kyoya was a human just like the rest of them. The expression departed just as swiftly as it had made itself present, but it was not a look that she was likely to forget.

For one distressing moment, she supposed that the man might kiss her, and that inclination alarmed her greatly. It would be one thing to have sex with this shadow king, but entirely another to express affection – that was not something she assumed either of them possessed for one another. Kissing was something far more unpredictable and precarious than what she assumed they were about to do – so much more intimate and convoluted…promising even. Just like her ever-increasing debt to the Host Club, that anticipation for anything additional from this man was something that she couldn't afford in her life…

But then she thought to herself, _what do I actually have to lose from this_ …?

Then, as if her body impulsively stirred on its own, she arched her frame skyward, drawing down on his shoulders for leverage, and folded her mouth against his own in a clumsy, yet appallingly erotic weave of lips.

The body above her stilled for a moment, slack lips parting against her own in a soft gasp at the unanticipated exploit. But the dormancy lasted merely a few seconds before Kyoya dropped his jaw lower to permit her admission and slid his hands further into the grey cotton about her hips, feeling the thin fabric slide against the backs of his hands as he took the opening to palm the tight mounds of her buttocks. His pale hands cupped the cheeks firmly, clutching them and shuddering at the allowance. Haruhi whimpered into his mouth, lifting her hips just as the other pressed downward, crushing their heats together in a deliberate, powerful undulation.

Kyoya growled into her mouth as she dug her thin digits into the Ootori's shoulders at the exhilarating sensations.

Before the other could truly realize what had happened, he was lying back against the mattress with a flustered Haruhi straddling him and pressing her buttocks down against his arousal.

The other responded by gripping the hem of her dress once more and wrenching it upward, forcing the Fujioka to pull away from his chest and lift her arms to accommodate the disrobement. The chilly air of the chamber hit her bare chest and stomach immediately, causing shudders to slide down her torso and the rosy buds on her chest to tighten. The chill, however, was quickly forgotten when the heat of the shadow king's mouth closed around her left nipple, causing her to clamp her fingers onto his shoulder, the tips of her blunt nails pressing faintly into the unblemished ivory flesh.

The Ootori hissed at the contact, relishing it when her burning fingertips pushed against his flushed skin as the Fujioka moved down to close her mouth over the juncture of his neck and shoulder, pressing her teeth down until the other panted from the stimulation.

The pain made Kyoya open his dusky eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and Haruhi made a delicious whining sound before she could catch it.

This made the other growl in exasperation and scrape his fingers down her side as if he were punishing her for stifling her reactions the way she had. She trembled from the dragging sensation on her skin and pulled the other's head back to nudge their mouths together.

A new noise made Haruhi blink in confusion before she glanced downward to their laps. The girl swallowed thickly as she peered back at the Ootori, in whose lap she sitting, as his expression turned to a leer.

Kyoya grabbed two handfuls of his own slacks and pulled them down as far as he could manage with the girl still in his lap, before giving a short snicker and moving his hips to help work the pants the rest of the way down his legs. He pulled them off, tossing the article of clothing to the floor, not caring where it landed.

Haruhi, on the other hand...her eyes were too busy staring at the Ootori's substantial length displayed in the dim moonlight and accented with the shadows of the hammering rain on the windowpanes.

Kyoya pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, enjoying the way the girl's eyes widened slightly and lips went slack in surprised appraisal. Haruhi's eyes moved to watch Kyoya's lip disappear between two rows of straight teeth before she snapped them back down to follow the hand that moved to cup and squeeze the hardness displayed unmistakably against that pale stomach.

Kyoya's eyes narrowed as Haruhi watched, as if mesmerized, while he stroked his own arousal, biting harder into his lip as his cock pulsed both from the contact and the gaze. Haruhi appeared fascinated by the movement, her hands clenching at his shoulders as if they were longing to do something other than balance her own weight forward – as if she was dying to touch. Then the right one stirred, reaching forward to sneak beneath Kyoya's hand. The Ootori exhaled softly at the feeling.

He pulled his own hand away and closed his eyes, curving his back and winding his hips as the Fujioka got the feel of touching him. Her fingers were like velvet fire, clumsy yet unyielding in their investigation.

Kyoya didn't wait long before he was exhausted of the last obstruction of attire, removing one of his hands to grip the leg-band of her grey panties and stretching them back to swiftly slip his other hand inside.

She furnished a gasp at the action.

It had been so long since Haruhi had touched herself, and Kyoya's hands were just as soft as the rest of his skin which made the sensation that much more enhanced as his fingertips fluttered against her damp womanhood.

Her hold tightened slightly on his length, as if she were attempting to anchor herself. The response she acquired was a low groan and lift of Kyoya's hips to meet the change in pace.

Kyoya had intended to stay still and let Haruhi do whatever she desired, but it felt as if his hips had a mind of their own, gyrating and triggering that hand of hers to glide down his shaft at the motion.

"Kyoya...what are..." she didn't get the opportunity to complete her sentence as the Ootori quickly shredded the damned panties the rest of the way off, allowing his hand all the admission it required.

The frosty air and unforeseen exposure caused a small yelp to slip from Haruhi's mouth, which quickly turned to a strangled obscenity as an unbelievably hot mouth took the tip of her opposite nipple into its heat at the same time as a long, slender finger slipped into the moist folds of her sex.

Haruhi's body threatened to pitch backward, and her hips tried to push down against that intrusion, but the strong hand that pressed them back stopped her in her tracks. She panted noisily while her eyes clenched tightly when Kyoya glided a second digit alongside the first.

Haruhi drew air into her lungs sharply, as her head whirled with the sensation. Her back curved as she forced herself against the man beneath her, threading her free fingers into Kyoya's baby-fine hair, and hesitating when she used her other to squeeze the base of his rigid length.

As if coming to a realization of just how perceptive the other was, Kyoya's hot tongue drew along the underside of her breast. More pleasure shot through her spine, making her pelvis pull taut and her orgasm blast up to let her know she was dangerously close to ending this far too soon.

"K-Kyoya, stop...please!"

But when Kyoya started to hasten instead, dread began to compress in her stomach. She did not want to be completed so soon. How humiliating that would be…?

Not so concerned with playing fair any longer, Haruhi quickly clamped down on the nearest expanse of flesh with her teeth at the same time as she tightened her grip on his length and gave it a good jerk. She was thankful when all of the sucking and licking ceased, the double sensation of that and the fingers curved deeply within her seeming to have a sturdier effect on her resolve than previously intended.

She didn't, however, take into account the possibility that Kyoya would hum in encouragement from the movements. The vibrations the started to trickle up his throat and onto the Fujioka's chest were almost as stimulating as the Ootori's tongue alone – damn was he talented with that mouth...

With a groan she reached her free hand to push one of his shoulders back until her breast pulled away from his mouth. The Ootori was still humming slightly in pleasure while she pulled away from the stretch of bite-marked neck, trying to calm her body down.

"Is there a problem, Haruhi?" The Ootori's deep voice was breathy, yet steady as he continued to study his classmate.

The Fujioka took a few breaths before she answered. "I didn't want you to think you had complete control over this, Ootori."

Before Haruhi could object, however, Kyoya grabbed her elbow and flipped her roughly back onto the bed, prompting her to land on her belly on the bedding. When she seemed to get her bearings back, she turned her head to the side to glare up at the now kneeling man as he quickly pressed his chest against that slightly sunburned back when she tried to rise from the bed.

"What are you doing?!" Haruhi snarled in irritation and confusion.

Kyoya ignored the question, focusing on pressing a pinked shoulder into the mattress, keeping the girl still. Haruhi considered cursing at him or scrambling to get out of his hold, but decided the attempt would most likely be a futile waste of energy that she should probably conserve.

The Ootori's eyes flashed as he gripped Haruhi's right hip again and pulled up, causing an interesting combination of sounds to fall from the other's lips as his naked length slid along her folds, teasing and taunting.

Haruhi was panting heavily against the comforter – her head turned to the side so she could properly breathe. Her face was flushed and skin sparkling with perspiration, arms lying in different areas against the sheets, one raised above her sun-kissed shoulders, the other out to the side and twisted in the sheets. Her back was arched, while her legs were parted wide from the angle of her fall. But the most startling entity was the image of her hips up off of the mattress and pressed desperately against his own heat, as if she didn't even realize what she was doing.

Kyoya adjusted his grip on her right hip, and the movement caused Haruhi to whimper and tremble when his arced length brushed against her pearl from beneath.

The Ootori couldn't stop the wry laugh that spilled from his lips as he leaned down to give the point between her shoulder blades a brief nuzzle.

"What's wrong Haruhi? Did you finally just give up?"

"I hate you! This is completely unfa-!" Haruhi's malicious snarl was hastily silenced as Kyoya reached his other hand around to stroke her pearl in slow, yet startlingly accurate loops – he had _definitely_ done this before.

He gave another rasping chuckle as he received a similar response, though this time it was a bit more subdued since the Fujioka had buried her face in the duvet to stifle it.

"You talk big, Haruhi. But you enjoy being pushed around, don't you?"

The body beneath him tensed at the comment before the Fujioka hissed out, fighting against the rising resentment and the mounting pleasure, "I don't let anyone push me around, Kyoya. You should know that..."

The Ootori might have been inclined to believe her if Haruhi's body would have given some sort of struggle when he pulled back slightly, exposing her dampness to the empty air in the room.

Kyoya shifted his hips until the entire length of him lay right in between the cleft of that heat. He groaned when he felt the body below him shudder savagely at the contact as she pressed her mouth into the duvet to stifle her noises.

"Don't you try to keep your voice from me, Haruhi."

The Ootori nuzzled her back once more before tonguing a line along her spine and adjusting her hips until just the blunt head of his length pressed against her entrance.

"I want to hear every sound that you can possibly make..."

Dark eyes watched the glistening ridges of muscles on Haruhi's back roll and contract. Kyoya could also see the spasm in her blushing body as the heaviness of her heat against the head of his shaft became stouter before pulling away, as if she were fighting with her body not to give Kyoya what he sought.

When the Fujioka's body started to wilt from the lack of progression, the Ootori pressed lightly against her pearl, still drawing those torturous circles and was gratified when he heard her breaths become more labored, shoulders trembling beneath his gaze.

Kyoya continued to work her pearl with one hand, the other reaching beneath his pillow to retrieve a preplaced condom – tearing the package open with his teeth, before rolling it over his shaft, shivering slightly when the cold latex landed on his heated skin. Tossing the wrapper over his shoulder, he curled his hand around the base to aim the head of his shaft at the convulsing heat.

He paused to look at the girl beneath him. The Fujioka had adjusted her knees by raising them up to brace herself on the mattress below. She had tilted her head down until her forehead pressed against the sheets, revealing the mess of brown hair plastered to the back of her neck. Her pale hands were gripping the duvet tightly within her fists; most likely an attempt to conceal the visible tremor in her body the moment Kyoya had lined himself up with her heat.

Haruhi was terrified.

With that realization in mind, Kyoya relaxed his grip, placing his left hand on the small of the Fujioka's back and slowly sliding it up her spine to rest between her shoulder blades. He breathed softly when he visibly witnessed the other relax beneath his careful, reassuring touch.

"Haruhi."

Initially, she made no effort to display that she had even heard the other. But eventually she lifted her body slightly to twist over her shoulder.

The sight that greeted her was a surprising one – beneath the challenging and dominant exterior angles of his face, there was a softness in those shadowy eyes. And it wasn't the kind of gentleness that was _permitted_ to show through – it was the kind that somehow managed to slip past the iron-barred fortifications that he always put up against those who endeavored to get close to him. It was stunning to observe…

Then, with a voice so sincere and thoughtful that it pained her, he uttered the precise words that she needed to hear.

"I will never feel shame for having sex with you, Haruhi. And this won't alter anything for us and our classmates. They needn't even know…"

He moved his hand back to her hip in a touch that was too much like a caress for her to feel on edge, and pressed the tip of his length back to her heat with a bizarre leisureliness. It offered her a false sense of security that this man might actually care for her in some way other than a debtor to his collector.

Then the bomb dropped.

"If you continue to react as beautifully as you have been, I might decide to knock 10% off of your remaining balance. Besides, you didn't mind giving away your first kiss so casually – how different can your virginity be…?"

Awful realization flashed in Haruhi's eyes while her brows and shoulders twitched as if to retreat in the eleventh hour.

And she might have gotten away, too – if only she had been given the opportunity, before Kyoya slid himself all the way inside in one, fluid thrust.

"K-Kyoya-"

He roughly slapped the side of her ass in warning at her protest, surely leaving an angry welt in the aftermath.

"Don't whine, Fujioka…you want this just as much as I do, if not more..."

He pressed his hips against her, grinding his length into her with unforgiving force, as he ran his hot tongue along the plane of her shoulders.

Haruhi cursed as she raked her nails against the comforter beneath them. He filled her to the point of bottoming-out – the pressure was intense, but the grazing of his length against her sweet-spot was enough to distract from any discomfort that might have been present.

Kyoya gasped as the Fujioka pulsed about his arousal, compelling him to plant his free hand on the bed to avoid collapse.

"You have to relax , Haruhi."

In disbelief, Haruhi's eyes widened, wondering how in the world Kyoya expected her to relax when he had just forced himself into her unaccustomed body without giving her the chance to prepare herself for the sudden penetration that sent sparks singing from her core outward through her extremities.

But she recognized that it would be ineffective to struggle at this point, and any obstinate refusal to comply would only end up wounding her in the end, so she took a deep breath and began to discharge the strain in her lower body.

It took her a few seconds before her body did exactly what he had asked, unwinding and slackening beneath him.

The two groaned in unison as their bodies quivered from the sensation.

"You're so snug…It's been awhile since you've touched yourself, hasn't it?"

He _knew_ that he was her first – there wasn't a smidgen of uncertainty in his attitude. She could feel the humiliation welling up inside of her, threatening to trickle from the corners of her eyes if he didn't at least distract her from the assault of emotion she was suffering.

The Fujioka's voice was trembling as she ground out, fighting back the nervous and embarrassed tears, "Please move..."

Kyoya didn't think to ask if she was sure, merely retracted to the tip and crashed back into her.

Haruhi practically screamed against the sheets, reaching one hand back and digging her nails into Kyoya's naked hip, pliable against her palm. The Fujioka clamped her mouth shut and smashed her forehead against the mattress with each of his thrusts, sensations exploding throughout her core with each shove.

The Ootori gritted his teeth, grasping a handful of Haruhi's hair before wrenching her head back against his shoulder, bringing her out of her kowtow and into a kneeling position.

Haruhi bit into her bottom lip, body shuddering as her hips moved willingly down to smack against the other's hips – the feeling so much more devastating and pleasurable than she had anticipated.

The Ootori groaned and secured his teeth about the lobe of her left ear, returning his opposite hand to the gem of her sex.

The reaction was immediate as Haruhi wailed out from the twofold stimulation. Kyoya pressed and encircled the bundle of nerves whenever he beheld that the girl would hold her cries in once more.

The Ootori growled, "You are not allowed to quiet your sounds, Haruhi. I want to hear you shriek while I appropriately defile you."

The Fujioka strained to glower at the remark, but ended up gasping as Kyoya accelerated his pace.

"Kyo-ya! Ah!"

Haruhi slid her hand upward to twist her fingers in pitch black hair, digging her fingertips into his scalp as her approaching orgasm began to make itself well-known, heat snaking in her gut as her thighs started to quiver and her knees began to wobble.

Kyoya released her hip, moving his now free hand slowly up the length of her belly and ribcage to cup her left breast.

Haruhi pitched her head back onto Kyoya's right shoulder, turning her chin to pant and gently keen against the pale skin of his throat and jaw-line.

Kyoya squeezed the mound in his palm in response, thumbing the tight bud, and pressed his face against the top of her head – drawing in the scent and texture of her. Knowing he was suspending the unavoidable, he focused his efforts on polishing that pearl within her folds.

And then wished he had concentrated on this _much_ earlier, because Haruhi came _alive_ beneath his proficient touch. He used his knees to kick her own apart, opening her up further to him, permitting much deeper penetration.

Haruhi began whimpering and sobbing loudly, grappling at his hip and hair, and squirming her body against his own as a way to distract herself from the overwhelming sensations building within her as he thumbed her nipple, fingered her pearl, and plunged deeply within her quivering heat simultaneously.

"Ah, Kyo-!"

If Haruhi had been thinking plainly, she would have been humiliated to hear herself in her present state. But she was currently not rational about anything except the unexpected orgasm that ripped through her center, clenching maddeningly about the engorged length within her with a force that tore a strangled gasp from his lips to gust against her left shoulder.

Not even allowing a few moments for her gather her senses after her climax, barely escaping his own, Kyoya dragged his lips against the Fujioka's sweat-drenched temple, before he slowly began thrusting again, almost gently.

His pace quickened after a few moments and Haruhi sluggishly began to meet his thrusts once more. Gazing at those half-lidded eyes, Kyoya sought Haruhi's mouth once again, exploring every inch of the petite girl's wet cavern, remembering her taste.

Pushing himself deeper and more rapidly, the Ootori hissed when a brief wave of pleasure rushed through him. He tore his lips away and latched them on the sweat slicked neck once more, suckling a spot behind her ear while continuing to roll his heavy length into her.

Haruhi jerked and whimpered helplessly when Kyoya repeatedly hit the already overly sensitized sweet spot inside her, heat building once more in her folds. Her need for a new release returned and she dropped her weight into every thrust while clinging tightly to his hair and forearm. The constant stroking of her pearl was beginning to make her dizzy with pleasure, and a final thrust put her over the edge once more, and she came hard, nearly pitching forward, if not of the steady hand at her belly.

Kyoya groaned loudly when he felt the girl stiffen and shudder in a second release. He couldn't hold himself any longer either; he was there with her in a matter of seconds.

Biting onto the clammy shoulder, Kyoya thrust two more times and shuddered as the Fujioka's heat pulsed and clench around his length, and he only lasted one additional thrust before the incredibly tight walls surrounding him caused him to climax as well, pulsing with her as he emptied himself inside the trembling girl, dragging a soft groan against her collarbone as he flattened his left hand against her abdomen for balance and his fingers slowed to a stop on her clit.

Both knelt there in silence, waiting for their heartbeats and breathing to return to normal. Kyoya slowly tugged himself from her body, and Haruhi slumped to the mattress below, exhausted from the intensity.

She felt the shadow king slide to the duvet as well, his breath labored, but more controlled than her own. _She_ felt as if she had just run the mile in a gym class that she hadn't attended in years: her heart was racing, breath constricted within her chest, droplets of perspiration littered her brow line, and her limbs quaked with the effort to remain cognizant.

She sensed him shift beside her before the weight on the cushion vanished, leaving her cold and alone on the vacant bed. She heard him pad quietly across the chamber on the plush snowy carpeting, the slide of a drawer, the rustle of fabric, and slide of cotton against flesh an indication that he had retrieved, perhaps, a fresh set of sweatpants – it wasn't as if it mattered too greatly to her.

She was just about to roll over and attempt to rise to her feet, preparing to dress and depart, when she suddenly felt the stroke of silky material against her trembling back and thighs, cutting the chill and concealing her nakedness. She elevated her head from its residence on the gray-cobalt pillow to question the deed when she was met with a rather unanticipated picture.

The mattress dipped as his weight came to rest against the cushion at her feet, his uncovered torso glistening in the beams of moonlight still filtering in through the storm, chest still heaving slightly from the exertion. His silky black hair was plastered to the sides of his face and neck, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, running a hand through said locks. The runoff of rain on the windows painted his heaving chest and concerned face with lines and patterns that were reminiscent of stained glass, or white clay cracked under extreme heat. Those dark eyes looked down at her with a clouded, fatigued look, his body shivering gently. Those very eyes then closed as he straightened himself out, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as if attempting to regain his composure.

She glanced down slightly, noticing that the fabric he had draped across her back was none other than her pink and white nightdress that had been tossed to some unidentifiable location in the room at the commencement of their exploit. Gripping the fabric tightly, she wasted no time in pulling the loosely-fitted fabric over her tousled head and smoothing it down along her figure, concealing all indications of their earlier sin, save for a few jagged contusions along the juncture of her neck and shoulder that could easily be covered with a shawl or powder and concealer.

Coming to a kneeling position on the mattress, she placed her hands on her knees and faced the soundless man beside her. No words were spoken for a long while, but when they were, she almost wished that he had remained silent.

"Don't worry…I won't tell anyone or our tryst. Your secret is safe with me…let Tamaki continue to believe that you are an immaculate virgin. It will be easier that way…"

She scowled severely at the words, attempting to decipher his inflection.

"Easier for _me…_ or easier for _you_?"

There was a dark chuckle from Kyoya's direction as her grimace deepened and her jaw clenched in irritation.

"My dear Haruhi…why on Earth would you think that I cared even a little about what Tamaki has to say about my private affairs? It is not his place to be upset by anything I might do with any of his ' _perfectly pure_ _flowers'_. I was far more concerned for your relationship with the blathering idiot…"

Her glare relaxed slightly – he did have a valid point. Though she had absolutely no desire to let the information leak to anyone in the Host Club or otherwise – neither she nor Kyoya could afford the backlash, no matter how he might protest the notion – no one was completely invulnerable.

She had no inkling of what the man before her was feeling any more than she knew how to clarify her own judgments on the matter. What had just taken place was both the most disconcerting and gratifying half-hour of her existence – that she could not refute.

But as the mutual silence settled in and the storm raged on outside, she came to an abrupt and alarming realization: the flashes that she had been carelessly noticing on the walls and Kyoya's flawless flesh weren't the flashes of a nightlight or cell phone – they were _lightning_ …and with lightning came…and she hadn't even…

Her eyes widened at the sudden awareness, blinking rapidly to control the sudden rush of emotion that welled within her and threatened to spill from her eyes onto the now-not-so-pristine sheets below. She felt like such a fool – an unworthy, terribly blessed fool.

She was preparing to dart from the room, praying that he wouldn't catch her in her moment of vulnerability, when she felt a slender, yet strong arm wrap around her shoulders, pressing her forehead into that same bare chest that had been pressed lusciously to her own uncovered back only minutes prior.

She could hold back the tears no longer as they emptied in clear rivulets down her face, much like the rain on the transparent window panes behind them, only much more present and shameful. That same arm tightened around her, long fingers carding through her damp hair as the first crash of thunder was heard – though she was now positive there had been many more preceding it that night…she had just been too distracted to notice.

With heavy emotion in her voice she whispered through the tears, "K-Kyoya-"

That rich tenor cut off her pleas with a gentle manner and a nearly tender threading of long, narrow digits between her own with his opposite hand.

"Shhh…I know. You're welcome…"

She felt a soft press of lips against the crown of her head, those fingers were tightening against her own as the lightning flashed and thunder crashed once more, and she could barely make out the whisper of burning breath against her ear.

"If it is of any comfort, you have my number…anytime…"

And that was when she knew.

She knew that Kyoya wasn't just some textbook movie villain that had sweet-talked his way into her panties. She knew that he wasn't some tortured soul who had been abused by women and cast aside in angst. He wasn't some disgruntled 'youngest child' suffering from a lack of filial love and projecting that inadequacy onto those he bedded. He wasn't there to make everyone's lives more difficult and bask in the glow of their agony whenever he succeeded.

Everything that Kyoya did was somehow beneficial to those around them. Be it balancing the books, looking out for his friends, or keeping Haruhi from her own demons when she was at her weakest – Kyoya always seemed to aid those around him in some form or fashion…even if he often, if not always, got the shaft from it.

He was merely misunderstood – possibly _intentionally_ so. Perhaps he preferred it that way…slinking into the obscurities and letting someone else take the credit.

As she lifted her head to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, she openly admitted to herself the one certainty that she knew she could take away from all of this.

He might be _called_ the shadow _king_ …but his true existence was merely a _servant_ in the storm.


End file.
